Andrew Lloyd Webber Does Labyrinth
by FrancesOsgood
Summary: A series of related (or unrelated) one-shots, drabbles, or short fics bound together and inspired by the lyrics of some of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber's musicals. Some will be dark and serious, some will be humorous, and of course, some will be romantic. Grab your ALW CDs and sing along! *Points for who can name the musical the song is from!
1. Another Suitcase in Another Hall

**Another Suitcase in Another Hall**

"_I don't expect my love affairs to last for long; never fool myself that my dreams will come true…"_

Sarah closed the lid of her suitcase with a thunk and turned toward the bathroom. She could hear the shower still running.

"I'm leaving," she called over the sound of the water. There was no answer.

"I really mean it," she called again. "I'm really going this time." Still no answer.

Sarah huffed angrily and snatched the suitcase up from the bed by its handle. The suitcase was heavier than she'd expected and it landed with a thud on her big toe.

"Ow! Damn it!" she cried, hopping on one foot and massaging her bruised toe with her hand. Furious now, she hobbled over to the bathroom door and stuck her head in. A dense fog of hot steam enveloped her, and she blinked and sputtered.

"Goodbye, jerk!" she yelled to the man in the shower before turning to leave. She paused when she heard the faucet squeak as the man turned off the water.

"Sarah," his voice echoed from the shower.

"Yes?" she called hopefully.

"Don't forget to leave your key."

Sarah screeched in rage and slammed the bathroom door.

* * *

Cheri gave her friend a pitiful look and shook her head when Sarah told her what had happened with Jack, her latest ex-boyfriend.

"And you're surprised by this?" asked Cheri.

"Of course," groaned Sarah. "How could I not be? Jack seemed so different. Special."

Cheri sighed and Sarah stiffened defensively. "What?" she asked her friend.

"Sarah," Cheri began, "I hate to break it to you, but Jack was no different from any other jerk you've been with lately. That guy was rude, arrogant, and he treated you like dirt. Why do you keep falling for guys like that?"

"I…I don't," Sarah argued. "I date nice guys."

"Uh huh… name one," Cheri said, folding her arms over her chest.

Sarah thought back over the list of guys she'd dated since moving to California. "Chad was okay," she offered.

"Oh, do you mean Chad the fake Hollywood agent or Chad the compulsive liar?" asked Cheri sarcastically.

"Okay, fine. What about Gregory?"

"He cheated on you."

"Mike?"

"He cheated on you _and_ stole your credit card," Cheri answered.

Sarah put her face in her hands. Cheri was right. It was all true. She was a jerk magnet.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked her friend pitifully.

"I don't know," Cheri answered, reaching out to pat Sarah's hand. "Do you have Daddy issues?"

Sarah laughed out loud. "You have _no_ idea," she replied.

* * *

Sarah would let her friend believe whatever she would, but she knew the truth was much darker. So many years had passed and she had come so far…

She had studied theatre in college and auditioned for every part available before moving to New York. Her start in the big city had been rough, but after an extremely lucky break she'd found herself in a much-coveted role in a big time Broadway production. Before she knew what was happening, she'd become a stage star and suddenly she was flying off to Hollywood to be in a television show. It was a small recurring role, but it meant that she was recognized. She heard the whispers all the time now when she went out.

_Hey, isn't that Sarah Williams from that show?_

She was an actress, and even more, a recognized celebrity. But all that changed when she was alone. At night especially, she was keenly aware that she was still a somewhat frightened girl, jumping at this bump or that creak.

Darker still, on certain nights when the moon shone just right through her window and the wind fluttered through the dark curtains, she could almost _feel_ the tug from another world, a world she'd tried very hard to forget. It was real and it was out there in the dark where the smog of LA turned to mist and the black sky turned to fire. Somewhere, the dreaded congested, twisting highways of the City of Angels melted into the mystical, treacherous and wild labyrinth, and in the center of it all, HIM.

* * *

**Sarah Rose 29 guessed correctly. The song "Another Suitcase in Another Hall" is from "Evita." Congrats, Sarah Rose 29! You win a fine cask of 1988 Goblin Ale! Just kidding. I'm all out of Goblin Ale.**

**What ALW titles, lyrics, etc. do you wish to see next? Got a favorite? Leave it in the comments! **

**Fanny**


	2. Only You (Have the Power to Move Me)

**Only You (Have the Power to Move Me)**

Jareth glowered in the shadows of the studio soundstage. It was ridiculous for him to be here. Again. Yet here he was, slinking amongst the shadows and peeking around corners in order to get a glimpse of the newest cast addition to this so-called captivating urban drama. Sarah. Damn her.

Why did he keep coming here? He'd eavesdropped on rehearsals and practically knew her part by heart; surely he should be bored to tears by now. It wasn't as if he had nothing else to do. There was the blasted Council in two days time that was looming over his head, the Goblin Influenza epidemic was growing worse, not to mention the little matter of the Bog leak. If left unchecked, it threatened to overrun the forest and the catacombs beyond with stenchified sludge.

Jareth sighed and shook his head. There was so much to be done and here he was skulking about a soundstage like an obsessed fanboy! It was ludicrous!

"What the bloody hell am I doing here?" he asked himself aloud.

He had been content to watch Sarah from afar for years after she'd defeat-, best-, er, gone home. Of course, there was the matter of her dreams. As the champion of the labyrinth she was entitled to their fulfillment.

Jareth had never told her. He simply hadn't been able to bring himself to tell her that he could and would still make her dreams come true, despite her rejection. He couldn't bear to see the smug look on that pretty little face of hers. Besides, it only applied to her truest and deepest wishes.

Over the years Jareth had arranged an assortment of "lucky breaks" for Sarah: a spot opening up in that one theatre class she desperately wanted to get into, her portfolio winding up on the desk of a highly sought after agent, a leading lady mysteriously quitting a show abruptly, leaving Sarah to fill the coveted role.

"That must be what it is," Jareth thought to himself. "I simply like to come and view my handiwork."

She wouldn't be here without him, after all. Sure, she was talented and worked hard, but he knew that often wasn't enough in show business. The phrase "casting couch" passed through his mind and Jareth clenched his fists. The very thought of some lascivious director dangling a juicy role in front of Sarah in order to get her into his bed infuriated him.

"_Wait, what was that thing about offering the girl her dreams in exchange…in exchange for what?" _asked the teeny-tiny voice of his conscience.

"**That was different," **bellowed the much larger voice of his ego. **"I wasn't just trying to seduce her. I was trying to win!"**

"_Sure you were. And now the thought of her being with someone else is making you jealous!"_

"**Tch, I'm not jealous."**

He certainly had no designs on Sarah, but she was too far above those low-life, leering, midde-aged bald men who fancied themselves geniuses but were little more than disgruntled hacks. She was very talented, beautiful, mesmerizing. Any director would have to be crazy not to want to have her in his production.

"Or in his bed," Jareth said to himself.

"Move it or lose it!" called a male voice. Jareth turned and saw a hefty young man pushing a cartload of hanging clothes headed directly for him. He jumped backward into the frame one of the many closed doors in order to avoid being run over by the rack of costumes. He could only imagine the indignity of being laid out flat by an underpaid intern and his designer duds of death.

Frustrated, Jareth let his head fall back against the door once, then twice, then again.

"Yes?" said a voice from the other side of the door. Before he could answer, the door swung open and Jareth found himself face to face with the one person he had most hoped to avoid.

"Ja—Goblin King?" asked a very startled Sarah. She looked up at him with fear and amazement in her wide green eyes. "What the-?"

"Sarah," Jareth whispered, half to himself. She was a vision in a lavender dressing gown. Her dark hair was swept back from her face and held in place by a tortoise-shell clip. He noticed her feet were bare and that her toenails were painted powder blue.

"Sarah," he said again, louder this time. She began slowly backing away into what he discovered was her dressing room. Jareth followed, never taking his eyes off her face.

"Wh—what are you doing here?" Sarah stuttered. "What do you want?"

Jareth stopped, frozen in place by her words. What _was_ he doing here? What _did_ he want? He focused on her face, her pale perfect skin, her deep emerald eyes, her full rose-kissed lips.

_Oh yes, that's it._

Without a word, he reached forward and gripped her shoulders and pulled her toward him. Before Sarah could blink, his lips were on hers and he was kissing her roughly, passionately. He had surprised her so much that she didn't even think to struggle. She, in turn, surprised him by opening her mouth and allowing him to caress her tongue with his. A little purr escaped Jareth's throat and it seemed to break the spell. Sarah squirmed out of his embrace and backed herself away from him, breathless and blushing.

"You-," she stammered. "You kissed me!"

Jareth smiled and adjusted the wrist of one of his dark gloves. "Yes," he said. "And you kissed me back."

Sarah seemed to take that in for a moment. Her eyes darted about the room and she laid a hand on her forehead as she searched for the words to say. She looked up at him and he saw anger flash in her gorgeous green eyes.

"You had your tongue in my mouth," she spat.

"Your tongue wasn't complaining," Jareth replied seductively.

Sarah glared at him. "What the hell do you want?" she asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Jareth questioned in turn. He made a bold step toward her and had to laugh at himself. He himself had only just figured out what the devil he was doing there and what it was that he truly wanted. It wasn't enough to win. It wasn't enough to just fulfill the girl's dreams. But then, what if this _was_ part of her dreams? She certainly hadn't put up any resistance when he kissed her…

He stepped closer to where she had plastered herself up against her dressing table and lifted a gloved hand to her cheek. She didn't flinch as his fingers brushed over her cheek and down along her jaw-line. Jareth smiled.

"You play the part of the scared rabbit, but you don't pull away from my touch. Interesting," he thought.

Sarah straightened herself and gave him a look of nonchalance. "I want you…to leave," she said calmly.

"Oh you do, do you?" Jareth said with a smirk. He leaned forward and placed a hand on the dressing table on either side of her, trapping her between his arms.

"Yes, I-" Sarah swallowed hard. "I-"

"Yes, Precious?" Jareth asked, raising an eyebrow. He bent down closer until his face was very close to hers. He could feel her breath, coming in short little puffs, blowing against his cheek. It made him shiver slightly. Sarah glanced around, obviously looking for some route of escape. Finding none, she settled on the element of surprise. She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard on the lips. Caught off-guard, Jareth stumbled backwards and Sarah was able to dance around him and toward the door of the dressing room.

"Sarah!" Jareth called as she released him and ran into the hall. Sarah paused and turned back to him for a moment.

"I have to go," she said. "I'm due in Hair and Makeup."

Jareth blinked as she disappeared down the hall. What was she saying? Did she regret having to leave? Did she want him to wait? Should he just hang out in her dressing room until she came back? No, that was out of the question. The Goblin King waited for no one. He had urgent business to attend. There was the Council, and the Goblin flu, and the leaky bog…

Oh, who was he kidding? The bloody bog would be there when he got back.

* * *

**So... do you think His Nibs will wait around for Sarah? Maybe test out her wardrobe while she's away? **

**Can you name the ALW musical the title comes from? I'll give you a clue: roller skates **

**Stay tuned, Lovelies. Much more musical magic to come!**

**Fanny**


	3. Dear Old Friend

**Dear Old Friend**

_My dear old friend, can't believe you're here, old friend. After all this time, so glad you came. You look sublime. You look the same._

Sarah's mind was still reeling as she settled into the chair at the make-up artist's station. The Goblin King had been in her dressing room. He had been in her dressing room and he had _kissed_ her! She lifted a trembling hand to her lips. Her eyes closed, remembering the feel of his mouth on hers. She had never been kissed like that. She'd been kissed plenty of times, and by a wide variety of men, but not one of them had come close to that kiss. It was hot, intense... what was the word she was looking for?

"Radioactive?" asked the make-up artist.

"Huh? What?" Sarah babbled, broken from her daydream.

"The lip color," replied the make-up artist. "I've been dying to use this one." She held up a tube of deep red lipstick. "It's called Radioactive and your lips are perfect for it."

"Uh, sure. Fine," Sarah told her. She sat back and tried to relax while the make-up artist carefully did her job. Relaxing was hard for Sarah on a normal day, but after what had just happened it seemed out of the question. She kept thinking about the look on Jareth's face when she had opened the door of her dressing room. He'd seemed surprised, even embarrassed. What was he even doing there?

"Open your eyes wide," instructed the make-up artist. Sarah did as she was told and allowed the woman to apply a thick coat of mascara to her lashes.

"And what about that kiss?" thought Sarah. It seemed so impulsive, spur-of-the-moment. Hardly like the Goblin King. He'd always seemed to have a plan in place, a definite strategy. _Take the girl back to the beginning, give the girl the peach…_

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay? I need to get my other kit," the make-up artist told Sarah before scurrying away. Sarah sat back in the chair and sighed. She needed to talk to someone. Someone who perhaps could give her some answers. She would just have to be quick about it. She leaned forward toward the vanity mirror and whispered the words she hadn't uttered in over three years.

"Hoggle, I need you."

* * *

"Well, it's about time you called," the little dwarf said gruffly.

"I'm sorry, Hoggle," Sarah answered. "I've just been really busy."

"Hmph," grunted Hoggle. "Too busy for your friends. That's not like…ah…ah…AH-CHOO!" The dwarf sneezed and blew his bulbous nose on a large red handkerchief.

"Bless you," said Sarah. "Are you feeling okay?"

Hoggle glared at her from the mirror. "No, I ain't" he replied huffily. "It's the blasted Goblin Flu. I feel like a bag of beaten peckers."

Sarah giggled at Hoggle's coarseness. Some things would never change.

"Goblin Flu?" asked Sarah, suddenly intrigued. "But you're not a goblin…"

"Of course I ain't," grumbled the dwarf. "It's only called the Goblin Flu 'cause it started with the goblins. Anyone can get it."

"I see," said Sarah. "You look almost like you have a human cold."

"If you're referring to my temperature," Hoggle began, "you're close. I'm chilled one minute, burnin' up the next. My head aches, and I can't stop ah…ah…AH-CHOO! Sneezing."

"Definitely sounds like a cold to me," Sarah told him. "You need some chicken soup."

"Chicken soup?" asked Hoggle. "Do chickens make soup?"

"No," Sarah answered with a laugh. "You make soup _out of_ the chickens. There are still chickens around there, aren't there?"

The dwarf frowned. "Are you kidding? This place is overrun with chickens! His Majesty used to regulate them more, but the blasted things have gotten out of hand. They're in every nook and cranny here!"

"Really? Why hasn't the king done anything?" Sarah questioned.

"Beats the hell out of me," answered Hoggle. "Nobody's even seen the king for days now." He blew his nose again loudly.

"Hmmm," thought Sarah. "There's a goblin epidemic and a chicken infestation and His Nibs is here lurking outside my dressing room?" It made no sense. Was he looking for her help? Is that why he was there? Why he'd kissed her? Was he trying to seduce her into helping him? It didn't seem likely. The Goblin King was probably the last person on earth Above or Below who would ever ask for her help.

"So why did you call me after all this time?" Hoggle asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh, I…" Sarah paused. She wasn't sure she should tell the dwarf that Jareth was there. He already had no love for the Goblin King, and he would be thoroughly pissed to find out that he was making out with her in her dressing room while the Underground went to pot.

"I just wanted to catch up," Sarah finally blurted. Hoggle was about to say something more, but Sarah cut him off. She could hear the make-up artist in the hall.

"I have to go, Hoggle, but I promise I'll call you again soon. Feel better, ok? Remember the chicken soup."

"Fine," said the dwarf. "Probably won't work, but at least there'll be one less chicken to deal with."

He disappeared just as the make-up artist returned with her kit. "Ready for some magic?" she asked brightly.

"God, I hope so," Sarah answered wistfully.

* * *

The Goblin King was draped across one of Sarah's dressing room chairs, flipping through a magazine when she returned. He glanced up at her casually. She was still in the lavender dressing gown, but her face had been made up (too much for his tastes) and her hair had been styled into large, sexy curls that framed her face and spilled over her shoulders. He smiled seductively at her.

"You know," he purred. "You clean up rather well."

"Oh, you mean I look okay when I'm not filthy and sweaty from falling into oubliettes, and dangling over stenchy bogs and fighting goblin armies?" Sarah asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Yes, precisely," answered Jareth with a smirk.

Sarah frowned and began pacing around his seat. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "I happen to know that while you had your tongue down my throat, your kingdom and subjects have been dealing with a really nasty sickness as well as a chicken infestation."

Jareth jumped up angrily from his seat. "Who have you been talking to?" he demanded. "It was Hedgewart, wasn't it?"

Sarah sighed in annoyance. "Keep your tights on, Majesty. It doesn't matter, does it? What I've said is true, right?"

Jareth plopped back down on the chair. "It's really none of your concern," he said bitterly.

"Maybe not," said Sarah, "But it should be yours. Why haven't you done anything?"

Jareth held up his hands in a gesture of frustration. "I've tried," he finally admitted. "The Goblin Flu keeps spreading, the chickens are multiplying faster than I can keep up with, and the Bog-"

"Wait, what about the Bog?" asked Sarah.

"It has a leak."

Sarah thought for a moment. "I don't know what to tell you to do about the Goblin Flu, but couldn't you just "magic" the chickens away?"

Jareth looked at her as if she'd grown another head. "Magic them away?" he asked. "What kind of idiotic solution is that?"

"I don't know!" cried Sarah, throwing up her arms. "Isn't that what you do?"

"Magic doesn't work that way, Precious," he told her shaking his head. "I can't make things vanish from existence. If I did use magic to remove the chickens, I'd have to find somewhere else to put them."

Sarah thought for a while again. "Put them in the Bog," she offered. "Dam the thing up with chickens!"

"An interesting idea," said Jareth, "but I'm afraid it wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because," Jareth replied. "Chickens are mobile creatures and would just return to the city and castle and the last thing I need on top of everything else is a kingdom full of putrid poultry!" He laid a leather-clad hand over his eyes. Sarah had never seen him so unraveled. She moved to his side and placed her hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she assured him. "You'll think of something." He tensed slightly beneath her hand and Sarah wondered if he resented her touching him. She wanted to say more, to ask about the kiss, but she knew this was probably not the time. Besides, he'd probably only done it to unnerve her.

"I should return," Jareth said, rising regally from the chair. "I've wasted enough time here."

_Wasted time, huh? _ The thought stung Sarah a bit. "See, Williams?" she told herself. "That kiss definitely didn't mean anything."

"Oh, okay," she told the Goblin King as he walked toward the door. "Good luck with the Goblin Flu and the chickens and stuff."

"Yes, thank you," Jareth replied. He looked uncertain. "Sarah, about earlier…"

"Yes?" Sarah said expectantly.

"Williams, you're due on set in five. Get dressed!" Sarah looked away from Jareth toward the demanding voice and saw the assistant stage manager glaring at her from the doorway.

"Yes, Mr. B.," she answered. Turning back to Jareth, she said, "I have to get dressed for the-" but Jareth had vanished.

* * *

That night after taping, Sarah returned to her dressing room. She hadn't seen anymore of the Goblin King and wondered if he had returned to the Underground.

"Hoggle, I need you," she said to her dressing room mirror. The mirror rippled slightly and the weathered face of the little dwarf swam into view. He looked surprisingly bright-eyed and chipper.

"Sarah!" he cried when he saw her. "It's magic, that soup of yours! I made and ate one pot of the stuff and feel better than I have in days! How did you know?"

Sarah shrugged. "Chicken soup is a cure-all here Aboveground," she told him. "At least that's what grandmothers and Old Wives say."

Hoggle chuckled. "I think perhaps I could bottle the stuff and sell it and retire from gardening. The way this Goblin Flu is running rampant, I'd make a fortune!"

Sarah's eyes widened at his words. "Hoggle! Of course! That'll take care of two problems at one time! Oh, I could kiss you!"

Hoggle backed away from the mirror as if Sarah actually could kiss him through it. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Sarah tried to stifle a giggle. "Hoggle, is His Majesty back?" she asked.

"Unfortunately," Hoggle answered with a frown.

"Good," said Sarah. "I want you to go see him at once."

"What?" cried Hoggle. "What would I go see that rat for?"

"Because you have just discovered the cure for the Goblin Flu _and_ a solution to the chicken infestation," answered Sarah.

"I have?"

"Of course you have!" Sarah told him, smiling. "Now, go right away before the chickens can hatch more hell-spawn."

Hoggle smiled at her from the mirror. "Goin' right now. Thanks, Sarah!"

He disappeared from the mirror and Sarah smiled to herself. She could be quite clever when she wanted, though who would have guessed that mundane chicken soup would have a magical illness-fighting effect on Underground creatures? She felt a bit sorry for the poor chickens, but figured that by this point they were less like barn yard animals and more like termites, infesting every corner and wreaking havoc on whatever they came in contact with. Besides, animal population control was important. It was part of that whole "Circle-of-Life" thing.

Sarah changed clothes and headed out the door to go home. She stopped by the craft table to see what was left of dinner, but there were only some stale ham sandwiches and a few limp pieces of fruit. Her stomach growled irritably and Sarah knew what she wanted right then more than anything.

Chicken soup.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Ah, so a bit stupid and simplistic, I know. But hey, this series is based on Andrew Lloyd Webber songs, so what do you expect? I have nothing against dear Andy. In fact, I love Phantom of the Opera. ALW is kind of a musical nincompoop though. I suppose I could say the same thing about my fic writing. That's another story though.**

**Any guesses for the musical the title comes from? First correct guess wins a free Goblin Flu immunization package complete with rubber gloves and face mask!**

**I think I tried to throw in as many Laby-fic cliché/rules as possible here: Sarah/Jareth angst, smexy Goblin King draped over furniture, mirrors, and chickens. There must be chickens.**


	4. Tell Me on a Sunday

**Tell Me on a Sunday**

_Don't want to know who's to blame. It won't help knowing. Don't want to fight, day and night…"_

Sarah was careful not to tip her container of hot chicken soup as she fumbled with her keys. She had to smile at her good fortune in finding the soup. She had smelled it as she stopped at a stoplight on her way home. Looking to her left, she had seen the flickering neon sign in the window of the little diner. She'd swung immediately into the parking lot, but a lady was already hanging a sign that said "Closed" in the window. Sarah had started to pull away but the lady saw her and waved her inside. Sarah hadn't even had to ask about the soup. The lady brought out a container of the stuff and handed it to her and wouldn't take her money. Sarah shook her head. 12:17 a.m. on a Sunday in L.A., and she still managed to find exactly what she was looking for.

The aroma of the soup was making her mouth water, but her door key was not cooperating. "Damn door," she thought as she jiggled the key in the lock, still trying to hold the soup container steady with her other hand. She was about to give up when she heard the lock click and the door swung open of its own accord. Sarah stepped into her apartment cautiously. She had a sneaking suspicion about who had opened the door. Sure enough, the Goblin King was seated on her sofa, casually juggling three crystals in his right hand. Sarah put her purse and the container of soup down on the counter and stomped over to where he sat.

"Don't I have to invite you in or something?" she asked angrily.

Jareth rolled a crystal over his wrist and down his arm and then back again before answering.

"My dear, I'm not a vampire. You watch entirely too much television."

"Okay then, what _are_ you doing here?" Sarah snapped. "First my dressing room and now my apartment… Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"Hmph," grunted Jareth as he flicked his wrist and made the crystals vanish. "You have quite a high opinion of yourself, Sarah dear."

"Then answer my question," Sarah replied. "Why are you here?"

Jareth rose swiftly from the sofa and smoothed his dark pants with his gloved hands. Sarah noticed that he was dressed in more modern clothing: black slacks and a white button-down shirt. The mundane clothing did nothing to take away from his regal bearing or his Otherworldly air. He looked at her pointedly.

"I _had_ come to thank you," he began. "However, since you obviously have no desire for my company…" He moved toward the door, but Sarah stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Hold it," she said, putting her hands out in front of her. "Thank me? For what?"

Jareth cocked his head to one side. "I had a very interesting visit from Hogwart."

"Hoggle."

"Whatever. It seems he stumbled upon a miracle cure for the Goblin flu."

"Oh, did he?" Sarah asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, he did" answered Jareth. "It just so happens that this 'wonder cure' also takes care of our little Underground chicken surplus."

"Well, that _is_ convenient," Sarah said smugly.

"It is convenient," Jareth echoed, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow. "I'm just wondering," he continued, "where he got such an idea."

Sarah refused to take the bait. "He's a clever little dwarf," she told Jareth. "You should probably award him a goblin Nobel Prize or something."

Jareth snorted. "Oh come come," he sneered. "That dwarf doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Why are you putting this on him, Sarah? I know it was you who told him about the chicken soup."

"I did not," Sarah argued.

"No?" asked the Goblin King as he stepped toward the container of soup on the kitchen counter. "What's in the bowl, Sarah?"

Sarah averted her eyes and shrugged. "My dinner," she replied.

Jareth folded his arms over his chest and stared at her expectantly.

"Okay, fine," Sarah said. "It's chicken soup. Are you happy?"

"Now, that's quite a coincidence, don't you think, Precious?" asked Jareth. He thoughtfully stoked his sharp chin.

"Not really," countered Sarah. "Hoggle told me about the chicken soup and it made me want some."

Jareth shook his head. _Stubborn girl._ "Why don't you just admit it, Sarah? You helped me didn't you?"

"I didn't help _you_," she retorted. "I helped Hoggle and the poor goblins."

Jareth took a step toward her. "You helped _me._ Why?"

Sarah shrugged and moved past the Goblin King and across the room to the window on the far wall. "I don't know," she said as she peeked out through the blinds at the dark night. "Earlier you just seemed a little…" _A little what? Lost? Desperate?_ "Unhinged."

Jareth chuckled and Sarah was relieved. She'd been afraid that the arrogant bastard would misunderstand. She knew he wasn't weak, but everyone needs a little help from time to time.

"I'm indebted to you, Sarah," he told her gently.

Sarah turned from the window to face him. "Oh no," she said. "I don't want you to be indebted to me. In fact, I think you've helped me quite enough."

Jareth stared at her, disbelieving. "You knew?" he asked in almost a whisper.

"Of course," Sarah replied, putting her hands on her hips. "Look, I know I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good. I knew there was some kind of voodoo going on to get me where I wanted to be without…compromising myself."

The Goblin King gave her a weak smile and decided that he'd let her believe that his motivations were entirely honorable and not the least bit self-serving.

"So…" Sarah began as she walked toward him. "Can we just call ourselves even?" She extended her hand to Jareth.

"If you wish it, Precious," he answered.

He took her hand, but didn't shake it as she'd intended. Instead, he bent low and placed a delicate kiss upon it. A little shiver ran down Sarah's spine as his lips brushed over her skin. She thought about the way he'd kissed her earlier, hard and fierce, and the memory made her blush. Jareth saw the look in her eyes and in one swift movement swept her into his arms, intent on kissing her until she was breathless. Sarah didn't resist, but turned her face up to meet his. He bent down to her.

"Sarah…ah…ah..AH-CHOO!"

"Jareth?"

"Bloody hell."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Oh dear! Looks like His Smexiness has come down with a nasty bug! Tell me, what would you do in such a situation? I'm not sure how I'd handle a sick Goblin King, but I'm pretty sure whatever I did would involve Vapo-rub. Lots and lots of Vapo-rub. **

**Sarah Rose 29: I'm sure you know the musical title for this one. **

**Fanny**


	5. I'd Be Surprisingly Good for You

**I'd Be Surprisingly Good for You**

"I can't believe you gave me the Goblin flu," moaned Sarah. She sniffled loudly and glared from the kitchen to the sofa where Jareth was resting with one gloved hand over his eyes.

"Stop moaning and stir the bloody soup," he commanded wearily.

"This is ah…ah…AH-CHOO! all your fault," Sarah growled as she stirred the pot of chicken soup. "If you hadn't shown up and kissed me…"

Jareth held up a leather-clad hand. "Sarah my dear," he said, "My head already feels as if I consumed a barrel of goblin ale. Could you lower your voice to a less shrill decibel?"

Sarah slammed the spoon against the side of the pot and Jareth winced and rubbed his temples.

"Look here, Goblin King," she spat. "You're the one who showed up uninvited and brought this blasted _plague_ with you. I've been nice, generous, as you would say. I haven't kicked your sniffling, sneezing ass out on the street. I've allowed you to stay here against my better judgment since, as you claim, you're too weak to poof yourself back to Fantasyland. And now, I'm sick too, yet I'm slaving over a hot stove to make soup so we don't die of this horrible flu! You are in no place to make demands of me, so shut the hell up and take a nap!"

Jareth lifted his hand from his eyes and gazed at her. "Gods, you're gorgeous when you're angry," he told her with a smirk. He barely dodged the soup spoon that flew at his head and landed with a clatter behind the sofa.

"Ow!" cried Jareth and Sarah as they both rubbed their throbbing temples.

* * *

"Any better?" asked Jareth later after they'd finished off the reheated chicken soup.

"No," Sarah answered flatly. "I still want to die."

"Tch, so dramatic," Jareth groaned.

Sarah glanced at him from the other end of the sofa. He lay against her collection of throw pillows with his head back and his eyes closed. His frost-blond hair spilled over the back of the sofa and his forehead glistened with the perspiration of fever. His shirt front was unbuttoned and open, revealing his pale, smooth chest adorned with his ever-present pendant. Sarah couldn't help but stare as his chest rose and fell with each wheezing breath.

"How does he manage to still look so damn sexy when he feels like death?" she wondered, biting her lip.

Jareth opened one eye, the dark one, and caught her looking at him. "Enjoying the view, Precious?" he purred.

Sarah didn't answer, but folded her arms over her chest and turned away. _Arrogant bastard…_

"I fear the chicken soup isn't working," Jareth said with a sigh.

"I know," whined Sarah, shaking her head. "I don't understand it! Hoggle said it was magic and that he was cured after one pot!"

"Perhaps he deviated from your recipe," offered Jareth. "Maybe he added something you didn't."

"But I didn't give him a recipe…" Sarah started to argue, but saw the error in her logic. "I just told him to make soup!" she said slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand.

Jareth sat up straight on the sofa. "Well then," he said with a weak smile. "We have something of a solution, don't we? We'll simply call on Hedgehog-"

"Hoggle."

"Whatever. We'll call on him and ask him for the recipe. Or better yet, tell him to bring us some of _his_ soup."

"It could be terrible," Sarah said, making a face.

"Well, Precious," replied Jareth, "you could always just suffer through the Goblin flu."

"Fine," Sarah relented. "I'll call Hoggle."

* * *

Sarah set her soup bowl down on the coffee table and looked at Jareth. "You know," she said, "That wasn't bad soup. I think I actually feel a bit better."

"As do I," replied Jareth, seductively licking his soup spoon. "I must give the dwarf credit. He really did discover a miracle cure for the Goblin flu."

"I wonder what made the difference," Sarah thought aloud. Jareth looked at her and raised an eyebrow and she continued.

"I mean, what did he use that made it work? You would think chicken soup would be the same whether you were Above or Underground. Isn't it just ordinary chicken soup?"

Jareth stretched his legs and crossed one shiny boot over the other on Sarah's coffee table.

"Sarah," he said, "Surely you of all people know that things are hardly ordinary in the labyrinth." He saw Sarah's confused expression and added, "Perhaps you should ask the dwarf for his recipe. Just in case."

Sarah nodded and stood and held out her hand to him. "C'mon, Majesty," she said. "I'll call Hoggle again and we can thank him for his help and get the scoop on his miracle cure."

Jareth smiled and took her hand and let her lead him to her bedroom. He looked around warily as they entered her private space. Clothes were piled up at the end of her bed, books and papers were stacked in teetering towers on her dresser, desk and side tables, and her floor was littered with an assortment of mismatched shoes.

"You seem to have an aversion to orderliness," he mused.

"Two words, Your Majesty: Throne. Room. Besides, this is my personal space and I can do whatever the hell I want with it," Sarah countered.

Jareth shrugged and Sarah plopped down in front of her vanity mirror. "Hoggle, I need you," she said.

"Sarah!" cried Hoggle when his face came into view. "You look much better!"

"I feel better, Hoggle," Sarah told him with a smile. "So does His Majesty."

"Hmph," grunted Hoggle, his smile disappearing.

Jareth stepped toward the mirror. "Higgle," he began.

"Hoggle!" Sarah and the dwarf exclaimed in unison.

"Whatever. Sarah and I appreciate your assistance, but I must ask what it was that made you chicken soup so…effective. Would you be so kind as to share your recipe?"

Hoggle looked at the Goblin King with unease, but started listing ingredients.

"Well, first of course, there's the chickens," he began. "Black ones. I like to use the really chubby ones 'cause they're easier to catch."

"Yes, go on," urged Jareth.

"I put in carrots and celery from my garden, as well as some salt and pepper and fresh parsley…"

"Anything else?" questioned Sarah.

Hoggle thought for a moment. "Oh yes!" he said brightly. "I use some special ingredients, wild black mushrooms and Damiana."

"Damiana?" asked Jareth, surprised.

"Yes," answered Hoggle. "The leaves help deepen the flavor."

Jareth stroked his chin and grinned. "Yes, of course… Tell me, how are the goblins?"

Hoggle shrugged. "Beats me," he answered. "I ain't seen a one of 'em for a while. They've all gone out of sight. Recoverin,' I guess."

"Well, thank you, Haggis. You've been most helpful," said the Goblin King. He chuckled and walked away.

"What is so funny?" asked Sarah after she had thanked Hoggle and bid him goodbye.

"That silly dwarf and his special ingredients." Jareth laughed out loud.

"I don't get it," Sarah said, putting her hands on her hips.

"He put Damiana in the soup," answered Jareth.

"So?"

"So… don't you know anything about herbs?" asked the Goblin King. "Damiana is an aphrodisiac. Quite powerful, in fact. The goblins are probably screwing like rabbits!" He threw back his head and laughed heartily. Sarah began to laugh as well until an awful realization hit her.

"Jareth!" she cried. "_We_ ate that soup!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Sarah found herself crushed between Jareth and her bedroom wall. Her hands tugged at his loose shirt and ran through his hair as he feverishly kissed her.

"_Oh god-oh god-oh god-oh god- Yes!"_ she thought as his mouth burned over hers and his hands slid under her thin t-shirt to touch the bare skin beneath. Jareth's lips left hers for a moment and he stepped back and looked into her eyes.

"Sarah," he said breathlessly. "I don't want you to hate me once the soup wears off. Perhaps we should stop."

Sarah narrowed her emerald eyes at him. "Don't you dare," she hissed as she grabbed him and began backing him toward her bed.

As he fell onto her bed, one last coherent thought crossed the Goblin King's mind.

"The dwarf will definitely be getting a Nobel Prize."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Chicken soup is good for the soul and perhaps even for the libido. Yes, Damiana is an actual plant. Its leaves are believed to have "special powers" and though it's not _proven_ to aid in intimate matters Aboveground, who knows what Underground Damiana can do?**

**For any sharp-eyed sci-fi/fantasy nerds, Jareth's response to Sarah's messy room is directly lifted from Comm. Data in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "In Theory."**

**I'm not sure how much longer I'll keep this series going as it's steadily descending into ridiculousness. I'll see what I can salvage with the next installment. Till then, please leave comments, critiques, incoherent ramblings, whatever in the nice little box below.**

**Any guesses as to the musical? Clue: I've used it once already. **

**Thanks, my Lovelies!**

**Fanny**


	6. I Don't Know How to Love Him

**I Don't Know How to Love Him**

_Should I bring him down? Should I scream and shout? Should I speak of love? Let my feelings out?_

Sarah closed her eyes and nestled in closer to Jareth. She had never really been one for spooning, but this felt right. It felt good to lie with his firm chest against her back and one of his arms draped protectively over her side. She let herself relax and began to drift off to sleep, only to be roused a few minutes later when he moved slightly beside her. His lips gently grazed her ear before he whispered softly into it.

"I love you, Precious Sarah."

Sarah's eyes snapped open and she was grateful that her back was to him.

"He loves me?" she thought, alarmed. "Isn't that just a line to get what he wants? To win?"

Deep down, Sarah knew he was being honest in that quiet, moonlit moment when he'd thought she was asleep. What reason would he have to lie if he didn't know she was awake? Besides, she had seen the way he had looked at her the last time they had been intimate.

The first two times they had had sex that evening had been desperate blurs of lips and hands and limbs, fueled by lust and the Damiana-laced soup. By the third round however, the effects of the soup had worn off and it had been different: slow, thoughtful, deliberate. Jareth hadn't just touched her; he'd caressed her, tracing his beautiful bare hands in slow, lazy circles over every inch of her body. He had kissed her differently as well. Where before his kisses had been fierce and rough, they became deep, tender and passionate.

Sarah fought down the lump in her throat. The look in Jareth's eyes as he'd slowly moved on top of her had told her everything. He had made_ love_ to her.

She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. The Goblin King was in love with her.

_But what no one knew…_

That had always just been part of a silly story, a fantasy. She had never given him any reason at all to love her. And what about _her_ feelings? What did she feel for him? She was attracted to him, certainly. They were more than compatible, at least in bed. The sex was mind-blowing, but what about the rest of the time? Surely, headboard-banging, toe-curling, so-good-it-hurts sex couldn't make up for fact that Jareth was a pompous ass and she was a stubborn drama queen.

"We'd kill each other," she said aloud.

"Mm?" asked Jareth sleepily.

"Nothing," Sarah told him. "Go back to sleep."

Jareth sighed contentedly and pulled her tighter to him and Sarah's heart squeezed uncomfortably in her chest. He wasn't supposed to make her feel this way. He was supposed to make her angry, irritated, maybe even hot and bothered, but he wasn't supposed to make her feel _**this.**_

* * *

Jareth hadn't meant to make such a declaration, but at the time it had felt like the thing to do. Sarah had been asleep anyway and hadn't heard. Not that he was embarrassed or afraid of rejection. He had already groveled to her once before and she'd spurned him. He was beyond embarrassment and fear.

He knew she must know how he felt. He'd tried to make her see when he'd made love to her that last time. The first two times had been all about lust and pleasure and eight-and-a-half years of unfulfilled longing. The last time however, he'd tried to pour everything he felt out to her. Every touch, every kiss, every time he had moved within her had been a passionate declaration of his love.

"Gods, I'm such a fool for this woman," he thought, smiling wistfully. He felt giddy and ridiculous. Leave it to a willful, green-eyed mortal girl to reduce the powerful Goblin King to a love-sick wreck. But this was nothing new. He'd been lost the first time he had seen her in that pretty little green park. She was newly fifteen, but unlike most girls her age she didn't hang out with friends at the shopping malls or hamburger joints. Wearing her white princess dress, she went to the park every afternoon with her book and her dog and entered into the world of her imagination. Jareth watched her performances with rapt attention. She seemed oblivious to the outside world in those moments. She didn't hear the passing automobiles or the younger children screaming to be pushed on the swings. Sarah was in her dream world.

It was during one of those dreamy moments that Jareth decided to give her a small gift, a tiny taste of his power. He watched from his perch as Sarah delivered her dramatic monologue, and then with a flick of his snowy wing he bestowed a measure of dream-sight to her. Sarah paused in awe as the landscape of the park changed and the land of her imagination took shape. The flat plains became rolling green hills topped with a dazzling array of colorful flowers. The little pond stretched into a vast turquoise sea, and the old wooden gazebo grew into a tall, glittering castle. Sarah smiled appreciatively and continued with her play-acting. Jareth saw the wild delight on her face and he knew in that moment that he loved her. She was reckless and free and innocent and she loved the fantastic and magical. She could believe in him. She could love him.

"She could," thought Jareth as he watched the sun beginning to peek through the blinds on Sarah's bedroom window. "But did she?"

She hadn't hesitated to let him remain with her, even when the effects of the soup had worn off. She had pulled him down to her and kissed him with the same depth and fervor with which he had kissed her.

Jareth knew Sarah wasn't that same dreamy little thing he had seen in the park all those years ago. She had been different even when she had left him in the labyrinth. Yet, she still maintained that air of wide-eyed wonder and innocence. Perhaps that was why he had been so compelled to intervene so often in her career. He couldn't bear to see her innocence destroyed anymore than he could bear to think of any other man touching her. She had been with others; he wasn't blind to that fact. But her dalliances were all short-lived and never of any depth. Jareth had always secretly hoped he was the reason that Sarah couldn't find a lasting relationship, and that all those ridiculous, unworthy young men were merely poor replacements for him.

Sarah stirred slightly in his arms and Jareth placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. It was probably best for him to get some sleep. The morning would bring with it plenty of difficult questions that he wasn't sure he had the answers to. There was a very real chance he would return to the labyrinth with a broken heart. Again. For now though, Sarah was in his arms, and that was enough.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Today's installment is obviously on the more serious side. I really wanted to give a little insight to the internal conflicts going on with these two as well as a bit of back-story. If this continues, there will most likely be more laughs on the way, but we hopefully won't veer back to the silliness of the Goblin flu. Thanks to all who have read and commented!**

**First one to guess the musical gets nothing because I am a poor Arts educator and have nothing of value except knowledge and talent. And humility.**


	7. All I Ask of You

**All I Ask of You**

_Love me, that's all I ask of you_

Coffee. Sarah smelled coffee. She opened her eyes and blearily looked around. The clock on her bedside table read 11:37 a.m. She dragged herself out of bed, purposely ignoring the indention in the mattress beside her.

"Not going to think about it," she told herself as she pulled on her pink fluffy robe. "No thinking before coffee."

Sarah shuffled zombie-like into the kitchen where she was greeted by a somewhat subdued and rather rumpled Goblin King.

"Good morning, Precious," he said, handing her a steaming mug of dark liquid. "I made coffee." He gave her a small smile.

"Thanks," she replied, accepting the cup. She wasn't sure if he had actually made coffee using her machine or if he had just conjured it up out of thin air, but she decided it didn't matter. Either way, coffee was magic in a mug.

Jareth nodded to her as he sipped from his own mug, but said nothing else. Sarah studied his face. He seemed pensive, bothered even.

"Shouldn't he be turning cartwheels down the hall or something?" she asked herself. "After all, he finally bedded the Champion of the labyrinth."

Sarah watched as Jareth moved absently around her small kitchen, obviously lost in thought, and she wondered if perhaps he was as confused about their present situation as she was. Where did they go from here? Was she supposed to just pack up and run off with him back to the Underground?"

"Sarah," Jareth said, temporarily broken from his thoughts, "Would you-"

"Jareth, I don't want to be the Goblin Queen," Sarah blurted.

Jareth stared blankly at her for a moment. "Well," he began, "I was going to ask you if you would like some cream in your coffee, but thanks for letting me know."

"Oh," Sarah replied stupidly. She did a mental face palm. _Holy hell, Williams!_

Jareth glumly handed her the pitcher of cream and then turned and stalked into the living room. Sarah followed him.

"Jareth," she gushed, "I didn't mean to…I mean, we should probably just…It's not like I don't *_gulp!*_ have feelings for you…"

Jareth sat down on the sofa and looked up at her. "Sarah," he said gently, "I've never said anything about you being the Goblin Queen."

"I know," Sarah answered, taking a seat beside him. "I just don't want you to expect…"

"I don't expect anything of you," he said flatly.

Sarah frowned and leaned back against the sofa. "Ok, good. Fine."

They sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes before Sarah spoke again.

"Don't think I'm going to start popping out any Goblin Princes for you either."

Jareth nearly choked on his coffee.

"What?" he exclaimed. He set his mug down on the aptly named coffee table and glared at Sarah. "What on earth Above or Below makes you think I want to have any offspring?"

Sarah got up from the sofa and walked toward the window. "I don't know," she answered. "Don't you need an heir to the throne or something?"

The Goblin King sighed and shook his head. "I'm immortal," he told her. "I have no need for an heir. Seriously Sarah, cut back on the television."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sarah snapped angrily. "I don't know why you're even still here. You got what you wanted. You should probably get back to your goblins, Your Majesty."

Jareth jumped up from the sofa and whirled around to face Sarah. "I got what I wanted?" he cried furiously. "How is it that you know so much about what I want? I don't appreciate you making assumptions about me, Sarah. But of course, you always did enjoy forcing me to play the villain. You think I'm always after something, don't you? You thought I came here looking for a queen or an heir or maybe just a good _fuck._" He noticed Sarah's wince, but he continued in his tirade.

"Did it ever occur to you, Sarah dear, that maybe the only prize I seek is you?"

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand.

"Before you can make any more assumptions, let me assure you, Precious, that I want more than the physical pleasures of your body. As for you becoming my queen, I admit I had considered it. Why wouldn't I? And if you were my queen, of course I would want you to bear my children."

"What am I supposed to do then?" Sarah asked quietly. "Do I just walk away from everything I have here and return to the labyrinth with you? Don't get me wrong, I love my friends Underground and that whole crazy mess of a place, but I have a life here. I have a promising career and a real chance at fulfilling my dreams."

Jareth shook his head. "Sarah," he said, "You once willingly gave up your dreams for someone you loved. I would never ask you to do that again, even for me." He turned and sat back down on the sofa and Sarah moved to join him.

"Jareth," she said, laying her hand on his arm. "I haven't forgotten that you played a large role in giving those dreams back to me. I just don't see how we could ever make something like this work. I don't want to leave this life behind and I know you can't give up your place as king."

"Certainly not," grumbled Jareth.

"So where does that leave us?" asked Sarah. "Do we just live our separate lives apart except for occasional conjugal visits?" Sarah was grateful when Jareth gave a little laugh.

"You forget, Precious," he told her, "We don't live on opposite sides of the continent." He flicked his wrist and a crystal appeared. "I'm only a wish away,"

Sarah smiled. "That was unbelievably corny, Your Majesty," she said with a laugh.

"Corny or not, it's true," Jareth replied. "You see such a limited view of things now, Sarah. Where did my little dreamer go?"

"I grew up, Jareth," Sarah answered. "As much as I may have once been intrigued by the idea of being a fairytale queen, I'm afraid now I have to choose reality."

"Reality, eh?" Jareth said with a smirk. "This is coming from the woman who makes a living playing pretend."

Sarah sighed. He had a point. Still…

"That's different," she argued.

"No, it isn't," countered the Goblin King. "It's your reality, your job. Ruling the goblins is my reality, Sarah. It's no less real than yours, despite what you believe. You have your lights and makeup and special effects. I have magic. _And_ I possess the option of having the best of both worlds."

"What is that supposed to mean?' Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jareth smiled and cocked his head to one side. "I mean, if you wished to have your life here _and_ come back with me to the labyrinth, it would be possible to do so."

Sarah stared at him confused. "How?" she asked. "Wouldn't that be confusing?"

"At first," Jareth answered truthfully. "But you would get use to it quickly. You forget that time flows differently between our two worlds."

"That means…?"

"That means that you could come here and bask in your spotlight and win lots of statuettes and attend glamorous parties, and then return to the Underground and hold Court and kick goblins and play with wished-away babies and attend more glamorous parties…" Jareth smiled, seemingly to himself.

"Sounds exhausting."

"Not so much."

"You talk as if you have experience," Sarah said, regarding him strangely. He turned to her and grinned.

"Perhaps I have," he said. "Do you like the song 'Be My Wife'?"

"Um…sure. Why?"

"No reason," Jareth answered. He studied Sarah for a long moment before speaking again. "Sarah, I won't ask you to make any definite decisions right now. Think things over. There is no clock ticking this time."

Sarah gave him a weak smile. "Thank God," she sighed. "You know, that was probably the problem last time. You rushed me. You can't rush a girl, Jareth."

"Duly noted," Jareth said as he got up from the sofa. "I must go now."

Sarah frowned.

"Only for a little while, my pouting princess," Jareth told her. "If you'll remember, my kingdom has become the epicenter of a goblin orgy. I should probably be getting back to try to clean things up before the Council."

"Well, good luck with that," Sarah said, making a face. She held her hand out to Jareth who took it and pulled her up from the sofa before wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her soundly and her knees went weak.

"Would you be so kind as to open a window?" Jareth asked when he finally released her.

Sarah nodded dazedly, and moved to the opposite wall where she rolled up the blinds and pushed open one side of the picture window.

"Thank you, Precious."

She watched in amazement as Jareth transformed into a snowy owl. He flew around the room and landed on her shoulder for a brief moment before fluttering out the open window. Sarah watched him disappear into the smoggy sky and then closed the window. She retrieved the empty mugs from the coffee table and took them to the kitchen, singing as she walked.

"_Be my wife…"_

She stopped and nearly dropped the mug she was holding as the words Jareth had spoken earlier clicked into place.

_Holy talking hands and hats!_

"Jareth!"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Fluff and angst and cheese and corn and coffee. I'm stuffed! I think I may end this here. I really don't want to get into the mechanics of Jareth and Sarah trying to make a relationship work to the tune of Andrew Lloyd Webber. Even I have limits. Thanks to all who have made comments and recommendations. I'll be starting something new soon, so stay tuned!**

**Yes, "Be My Wife" is _that_ "Be My Wife." And yes, I was implying exactly what you're thinking. How could I not? Mwahaha...**

***I have too much fun making up exclamations for Sarah: Holy talking hands and hats, Great bog-greasing goblins, etc. I have seen some great ones in other works as well. My favorite thus far is "bloody farting goblin gods." What about you? Share your thoughts in the little box below. Thanks!**

**Fanny**


	8. Already Home

**Already Home**

_You think you're lost but that's not true; you simply lived a dream or two_

_You travelled all this way to find you never left your home behind_

_We have to finish to begin; we have to lose before we win_

_And soon we'll see that it isn't far from where we were to where we are_

_Home is a place in your heart_

_Every journey leads you back to where you start_

_Close your eyes, it's very easy_

_You'll find that you're already home._

"And the Emmy goes to…Sarah Williams!"

Sarah looked up at the stage as the music swelled and the audience applauded. The actress onstage was gazing out at her, or at least it appeared as if she were looking at her. Sarah glanced behind her. Meryl Streep leaned forward and smiled and said, "Congratulations."

"Congratulations for what?" thought Sarah. She looked beside her at Will Smith who winked and said, "Get up there."

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. Had they really called her name? Had she won an Emmy? Or was this that dream where she got up and gave her acceptance speech only to realize that she was completely naked?

There was only one way to find out. She slowly rose from her seat and stepped out into the aisle. The crowd was still applauding as she walked down the aisle and up the steps to the stage. Sarah stopped at the top step and looked down at her dress. So far, so good. She was still wearing her champagne colored vintage Valentino gown. She walked toward the podium at the center of the stage where a young actress waited with a gold statuette.

Sarah's heart began to pound wildly. She was going to accept an Emmy! She had always dreamed of this moment! She had practiced her acceptance speeches in front of her vanity mirror as a girl.

Sarah beamed as she went through the mental list of people she wanted to thank:

_My mother, the beautiful and talented Linda Williams…_

In truth, she hadn't spoken to her mother in over four years, but she still felt she should include her. She was her mother, after all.

_My father and step-mother, my amazing little brother, Toby, my agent, Stephanie, my publicist, my director…_

Sarah was still going through the list in her head when the actress handed her the statuette and stepped away. Her hand wrapped around the statuette and she turned toward microphone and… her mind went completely blank.

"I…I'd like to thank…" she sputtered into the microphone. She searched frantically through her brain for names, but none came. Except one.

"Jareth," Sarah blurted. Her face flushed bright red. She hadn't even invited him to come with her. He had been surprisingly gracious about it, but she could still tell he was hurt. Why hadn't she invited him?

"_He's a liability," _said a very haughty voice inside her head. _"The Goblin King would have no doubt caused some kind of havoc. Maybe stolen one of Brad and Anjelina's kids or something."_

"He doesn't _steal_ children," Sarah silently told the nasty voice.

"_Well,"_ said the voice, _"You really don't need all the questions and speculations about your love life that having Mr. Smexy McTightpants around would entail, do you?"_

"I don't know. Maybe…"

"_Besides," _the voice continued, _"You know that arrogant git would have stolen the spotlight. This is supposed to be about __**you!**__"_

"Right," thought Sarah. "About me. As usual."

She sighed and looked down at the golden statuette in her hand. Her dream. Jareth had offered her dreams to her before and she'd refused. Somehow her fifteen-year-old self had had a brief moment of selflessness. Sarah told herself that she'd grown up since then, and that she wasn't the same selfish little brat, but had she really changed? Jareth had done so much to help her. He had patiently waited as she kept him at arm's length in order to pursue her career. He hadn't pressured her to give up her dreams. In fact, he'd been more than encouraging and she hadn't even invited him to come with her and share in her big moment. She'd been afraid that he would embarrass her, or raise questions she couldn't yet answer, or worse, shift focus.

"Way to go, Williams," she angrily told herself. "You've become your mother."

Sarah shook her head. She had learned nothing. She was still a stupid little girl playing dress-up and guarding her turf and turning a blind eye to the things that truly mattered.

"_It's all junk!"_ she heard the Past echo. Sarah wondered if the Junk Lady was now in possession of an Emmy. She smiled at the thought, set the statuette down on the podium with a thunk, and gazed out at the waiting crowd.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," she began calmly. "This is truly and honor, and there are lots of people I would like to thank. However, the person I most want to thank is Jareth." Sarah paused and looked beyond the faces in the crowd. "Jareth, wherever you are, I'm sorry I didn't bring you with me tonight. You should be here. After all, you probably had more to do with my success than anyone. I've been pursuing my dreams and desires for so long, and for what? To get a silly little statue? Do you know what I really want? Do you know what I really dream about?"

She paused again, trying to keep her voice from breaking.

"I dream about you, Jareth. I want to be with you. I…I love you. In fact…" Sarah took a deep breath. "I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away, right now!"

The auditorium fell completely silent. All eyes were on the green-eyed girl on stage. Suddenly, a breeze began to blow through the auditorium, ruffling teased hair and fluttering silk ties. Sarah smiled as the crowd began chattering and looking about for the source of the wind. She felt Jareth's presence behind her even before he spoke.

"Are you certain you don't want to stick around and collect a few more of those lovely little statuettes? They'd look quite nice over the fireplace," he said.

Sarah turned and looked at him. He was leaned casually against one of the decorative pillars on the stage. He wore an elegant long black tuxedo jacket with a ruffled silk shirt beneath it and sleek black pants. His wild mane of blonde hair was pulled back and tied with a black silk band. He raised an arched eyebrow at her, still awaiting an answer. Sarah squared her shoulders and looked him right in the eye.

"Take me home and make me a queen," she told him.

"You're already a queen, Precious," Jareth answered as he pushed off the pillar and stalked over to where she stood. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her fiercely.

The crowd in the auditorium watched in awkward silence for a moment before slowly breaking into applause. Jareth released Sarah and gave an elegant bow to the crowd who applauded even louder. Sarah just shook her head.

"Can we go to the after-party?" Jareth asked, turning back to her.

"No," Sarah answered. She noticed his little pout and leaned in close to his ear. "We'll throw our own."

Jareth grinned wickedly and offered her his arm.

"Then by all means," he purred. He waved his hand and they disappeared in a shower of glitter.

* * *

When asked, the producers of the Emmy Awards Show claimed that the disappearing act had been done with special effects and that what happened had all been "part of the show." However, no one could explain away the fact that Sarah Williams never returned to Hollywood. Occasionally, a young woman who resembled her was seen at a park with a blonde boy named Toby, but Sarah Williams the actress was never heard from again.

* * *

Meanwhile Underground…

"That was…interesting," Sarah said as she leaned against the Goblin King.

They were sitting on the throne, or rather reclining on it. Jareth had his legs thrown over one side and Sarah rested between them with her head against his chest.

"I hope your step-mother recovers soon," Jareth told her with a note of sarcasm.

Sarah giggled. "She'll be fine. She's a little high-strung anyway. Of course, after seeing goblins jumping out of the wedding cake, she'll probably have to double up on her meds."

It had been quite the scene. The step-mother of the bride had been given the honor of serving the cake to the guests, but just before Karen had stuck the knife in to cut the first piece, a goblin named Squib had jumped out and yelled "Happy birthday!" Karen had shrieked and nearly fainted and Sarah's father had had to take her out to the garden to collect herself.

"We probably shouldn't count on too many visits from your parents, should we?" asked Jareth.

"No, I don't think so," Sarah answered.

"What a pity," Jareth replied with a chuckle.

Sarah swatted him playfully on the arm. "Don't be mean," she said. "Besides, I'm pretty sure my brother will be a fixture here."

"That's fine by me, Precious," said Jareth. "You know I've always been fond of the boy."

Sarah sat up and turned around to face the Goblin King. "You're not still thinking of making him your heir, are you?" she asked.

Jareth gave her a wicked smile. "No," he replied. "I'd much rather make our own."

"You know I'm not ready for that," Sarah told him seriously.

Jareth reached up and caressed her cheek. "Of course, Precious," he purred. "But there's no reason we shouldn't practice."

"You are absolutely insufferable," Sarah told him, grinning.

"And you love me," he answered with a smirk.

"More than anything," said Sarah as she bent down to kiss him.

Jareth waved his hand and he and Sarah disappeared from the throne room, leaving a cloud of glitter and a pile of clothes behind. Squib sauntered into the throne room nibbling a large piece of wedding cake. He spotted Sarah's fluffy white gown in a heap on the throne and jumped up on it.

"Ooh, soft!" he sighed, running a grubby goblin hand over the ivory satin. He finished his piece of cake and licked his fingers and then nestled down into the dress and yawned.

"Happy birthday…" he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

The End

* * *

**A/N:**

**Ok, so I totally lied about ending this with the previous chapter. However, this came to me in a twilight dream and I knew I had to add it. **

**If you're wondering about the musical the song lyrics are from, it's Andrew Lloyd Webber's production of _The Wizard of Oz_. "Already Home" was added by Sir Andy to close the show, and if you get a chance you should look it up and give it a listen. It's actually very nice. **

**Thanks to everyone who has liked and commented! I managed to find a few bits of wedding cake that hadn't been licked by the goblins and I've set them aside just for you! **

**Fanny**


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